Do I Need Help?
by Nelson-Murdock
Summary: DI Felix Kane has had a rough time. A really rough time. Like a REALLY REALLY rough time. He may have had a breakdown...okay multiple breakdowns. Is that Hawkings? Oh God that's not good. How will this go? (Hopefully will write more of this but this can just be a oneshot as well. Hope you Cuffs fans enjoy it)
Felix Kane.

Detective Inspector.

No friends.

Has a crap father.

For all that he dominates in life, what does he dominate in his mind? It runs free, finding his vulnerable places secreted away by his subconscious, stabbing at his insecurities.

 _No good enough._

 _Failure._

 _Control yourself boy_!

Each slice of his insecurity creating scars, the physical and the mental, there is no difference. The pain; there is none just a dull ringing, a dull numbness, a dull rust.

He can hear a voice, slipping through his defences, worming it's way into his mind, "you need to get some help boss," who was that? His vision swims into focus, fuzzing becomes clear, the ringing in his ears stops, it's Carl Hawkings. He's there palming his hands, questions and concerns coming off him in waves, filling the men's bathroom.

Slowly turning as, if not to frighten a wild animal Felix faces Hawkings turning away from the slowing dripping of blood running down the side of the skin. The acrid scent making its way into both of the men's noses screaming its painful guilt.

Faces impassive, ignoring two small rivers running down Felix's arms creating spidery legs that threatened to jump at any moment onto the floor to create a small puddle of blame. Pupils dilate, face crumples, Felix is falling apart from the inside, slowly the insecurity, the guilt, the hurt, crawling its way to the surface right in front of Hawkings, in front of Carl.

The ultimate betrayal from his own body, his own mind falling to constant pieces, trying to relentlessly rebuild his defences and he was just so tired. Tired of the mask and he had ripped it off at the wrong time, the wrong place, the office right in front of Carl, in the bathroom for god's sake. Both men knew what was coming next; Carl took a step forward just as Felix's legs gave out. A rush of limbs and three seconds later, both men were on the floor Carl holding Felix as he screamed, anguish flowed free.

 _Don't let anyone see._

Hiccups broke free.

 _Don't let anyone know._

He clawed at Carl's suit trying to find purchase.

 _Failure._

"Sir?" Carl's face was full of concern and confusion around the man who never gave an inch, now bleeding in his arms. Shameful heat washed through Felix.

His arms aching slightly, the first feeling since his breakdown, "Sir, what happened?" Carl's voice contained a slight panic.

 _Stupid Felix, should not have done it here, should not have let go, didn't even go in a cubical stupid stupid stupid._

Carl has always been blissfully ignorant, Felix envied that the most in this moment, Carl could never feel the fear, the hurt and the self-hatred. He had tried to hold on, hold on as hard as he could, but now he had come off the handle –finally. Because life is mean, unfair and cruel.

"You need to stop this Sir, it's not healthy, I thought this ended when you moved your father," Carl shook him a little, Felix's head just bobbled.

 **I CAN'T BREATHE! YOU'RE KILLING ME! GET UP OFF THE FLOOR! STOP DOING THIS TO ME! STOP! I HATE YOU!**

Felix shuddered, choking, coughing, he jumped up off the floor, struggling out of Carl's grip he stood, a cornered animal. A ragged whisper broke free unbidden, "get away from me."

"You know I can't do that, Sir," hands up, submission and defence, that's what Carl was showing Felix, exactly what he expected and what he hated it.

"Stop it!" panicked, Felix raised his hands to his face, a full attack had taken over, blood smearing as he tore at his own skin, his face becoming a patchwork of red, black and white. Carl grabbed his hands pulling them roughly away from his face as if he had a fatal disease.

"Felix, you need to stop!" Aggressive, dominate. Felix stopped in his tracks, shocked. His face with no barriers shone out to Carl asking him, pleading with him to stop this madness, to wrench it out of him, all this feeling and all this hurt. Never had he been this open with someone and this was purely an accident. The idea alone made him shudder with regret and close his eyes. Blocking out a harsh reality. Head down–submit.

Carl's eyes widened, he was completely shocked, five words to stop your boss. He should write that down. First he needed to take care of this mess that his boss was in. Felix the unfeeling was experiencing emotions that Carl himself could barely begin to imagine. He had his suspicions surrounding his boss's mental health, but nothing like this, nothing to this scale and he had never thought he would live to see the day that these emotions of pure anguish would be displayed in front of his very eyes.

Both men were the perfect imitations of living statues neither of them moved. The only shifting in the room was the erratic breaths and the slowing flow of Felix's blood from his aching forearm. Carl with a leaden heart to a step forward and put a hand on Felix's forearm, trying to stem the blood that was flowing from the cuts, albeit slowly. Flexi stayed completely still, only looking at Carl through his eyelashes, a slight grimace gracing his face. Carl flashes a small smile and removes his hand, taking off his grey jacket, using it to put pressure on the wounds. His hands smeared with dark, blood heavy with onus.

"…Thank you," a guttural whisper made its way from Felix's lips, the words seemingly hurting from the harsh sobs that had been pulled from his throat not moments ago. "It's okay mate, you'll be okay," but Carl had no idea if he was speaking the truth.

Felix Kane was weak, weak from years of sadness and hurt.

This is what made him strong.


End file.
